Where is this going?

from northeast to southwest?  Or southwest to northeast.  Which way will it be swiped?  How does time influence this movement?  Is weather involved?  The advent of persimmons?  The lessons of plums and pluots?  How many poems will be read this morning?

Never forget the edges,

the margins.  Or the shadows.  This is true with cooking.  You taste what you don't see.  This is true with a poem -- you taste what has been editing away.  Fragrant, not fragile.

Glass, light

 & ink.  Delicious trio.  I've never been one to favor squid ink.  Are you?  For me gestures in black ink inspire.  Much like a  favorite wooden spoon darkened by use stirring a favorite stew.  Or those black rimmed appetizer-sized plates.

Imagine this pond

from the goldfish's perspective.  Or the rocks's.  Or the flowering lilies.  At home, consider the meal from a fork's perspective.  Tell me, is a poem under the surface of a blank page and the pen needs only to sculpt away until all which is left is essence?

Grain & face

We see the tangible in clouds, too.  Or in the landscape of food on a plate we remember where we've lived.  We read the fingerprint of the author in a poem.  Makes me smile.  How about you?

There is light in everything

& at the same time, dark.  Not 50-50, perhaps.  Why am I thinking of salt dissolving in soup?  Why am I remembered words removed from a poem?  Yup, light & dark.

Some bells ring to a different timbre

Silence is a blessed parcel of time.  A gift of the journey inward.  Like the meditation of cooking.  Or writing one word then the next not knowing when a period might manifest.  

Not what but whom

If we padlock the cooks...
If we padlock the artists...

Subtly in drama

Something are meant to be vibrant and some with a softer lens.  Flowers are prime examples as they speak with light.  When cooking, consider the light each ingredient offers.  When writing, consider releasing the light on the page.  Of course, reflections are a library in-and-of themselves.

Autocorrect "blogging"

to "belonging."  Computer programs aren't soulless, are they?  Think of a feather about to embark on another leg (or leaf) of its journey.  Now consider the pit of a peach as a heart.  Or consider a blank page as the canvas for conversing.  FYI:  the nickname for this bush is "the breath of heaven."

Everything wants

to be touched.  To make contact.  Even at the points.  So whole cloth is spun even by its parts. Look, too, for the beginning of stars.  Others may see fields of crops with water sources within reach.  Does it matter.  Know this:  there can be food & words enough to share for all.

A signal to stop

to brake can bring you closer.  An invitation for a deeper reflection.  When you were first learning to read, you knew this.  Reminders along the way are to be encouraged.  Consider, a favorite family dish.  Or the first poet who spoke to you personally.  Go ahead, make that dish; read that poet.  Out loud, of course.